Knowing Glances
by ladadeedadee
Summary: Elle moves into 221C and becomes close friends with John and Sherlock. Her close relationship with Sherlock, however, raises questions from everyone else, despite their protests. Are they friends, or is there something else behind how they look at each other? Sherlock/OC of how they develop/realize their feeling for each other and what they do after. Plot follows the show a bit
1. Chapter 1: This is How We Met

This is my first story so please be patient! The first chapter is only introductory, but the later chapters will be story-driven and a lot cuter. A slow love story that will deal a lot with their unadmitted feelings in the beginning, but will move on to a different part of their relationship. T for now, but could be M later depending on feedback. Thank you!

* * *

"Sherlock! Go say hi to the newcomer!"

Sherlock lifted his gaze from his laptop to see his slightly irritated landlady. A new building mate had moved in downstairs … a couple hours ago? And he had yet to introduce himself. Social formalities were not really his strong suit, partly by choice.

"Now Mrs. Hudson, what's the hurry?" Sherlock teased as he went back to his work.

"Sherlock, it's been almost 12 hours! You're the only one who hasn't said hi."

Mrs. Hudson frowned as she went about picking up the various books tossed on to the floor.

"You're not the … easiest to get along with. Don't make this harder for yourself, dear."

"What, you've already went downstairs?" Sherlock whipped his head up at John with a scowl. Just has to make him look bad, didn't he?

"Yeah, popped in there on my way out to the stores. Real nice. Think we'll get along quite nicely, actually," John smiled at Mrs. Hudson.

"Good. Poor thing, alone in a new country. From the states, did I tell you? So Sherlock, go say hi!"

Mrs. Hudson's smile turned against Sherlock and she shooed him out of his seat.

"Fine, I'm going!"

Let's just get this over with, Sherlock thought to himself as he stalked down the stairs. He knocked at the door and waited. He knocked again. Ooh, off to the wrong start, now aren't we, he smirked. Sherlock just shrugged and swung the door open and walked in a couple steps, partly stopped by the unpacked boxes on the floor and by the sight that greeted him from side of the room. The newcomer was fast asleep in the hastily made bed of thin blankets and sweatshirts, unaware of Sherlock's entrance. And the newcomer was a she.

Sherlock snorted, understanding why Mrs. Hudson was willing to give up the spare room downstairs and share a bathroom and a kitchen. Did he forget to listen when she went on and on about the newcomer? He ran his hand through his curls, unprepared for this situation. Well, he was here and had been rather bored… His gaze shifted to the half-empty boxes and the things that the newcomer had unpacked on to the desk and shelves. Might as well get to know her first, he justified to himself as he reached for her black scheduler on the desk.

After fifteen minutes of questionable snooping, Sherlock was thoroughly entertained. The newcomer, Elle Rhae, had come to London for a study abroad program between her university and LSE, hoping to extend her stay with internships and work later on. 20 years old, but already cynical and perceptive about life. Which was countered by her optimism and a positive outlook that Sherlock found annoying. A weird mixture.

As Sherlock put down one of her picture frames with a picture of her and her friends back home, Elle made a noise and shifted in her sleep. Finding his new target, Sherlock moved closer to her bed. Elle was snuggled in under the hodgepodge of thicker fabric she was able to dig out of her boxes, now sleeping on her side towards Sherlock. Sherlock quietly peered closer, trying not to disturb the girl who was obviously knocked out from a long flight and hours of unpacking. Elle slept peacefully with her face slightly covered by her long black hair, which was a bit wavy, uncommon in most Asians. She wasn't wearing a lot of makeup, as she had judged that it was unnecessary for the flight and unpacking. Just some thin eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. No, tinted lip balm. Sherlock wondered how useful it would be to be able to identify different makeup when he was solving crimes. Lost in his thoughts and running different scenarios in his head, Sherlock was still close to Elle when her eyes began to flutter.

Elle slowly opened her eyes and saw a blurry peachy blob through her lashes. Still a little drowsy, she reached out her hand and tapped the blob with her finger, frowning at what was covering the sight of her messy room. Hm, soft, she thought, pressing it a bit harder.

Sherlock snorted in amusement as this girl who was clearly still half-asleep poked him with a confused frown. At the sound, Elle moved her gaze upward, and saw two green orbs looking at her. Looking at her? Elle's eyes widened as she realized she was looking into someone's eyes. In her shock, she jumped back, her head only stopped from smacking into the wall by the stranger's hand that had reached out just in time. Sherlock removed his hand from between the wall and Elle's head and stood up. Elle sat up, conflicted as to thank the man for making his hand a barrier from the wall or to yell at him for an explanation as to why he was staring at her in her sleep. Before she could act upon her decision, the man spoke.

"Didn't mean to scare you, just came into say hi and found you asleep," Sherlock casually said, not mentioning how long he's been there or how he looked at her things. "

I live upstairs, 221B. Sherlock Holmes," he said as he reached out for a handshake.

Still dumbfounded, Elle slowly extended her hand and shook his.

"Elle Rhae."

Sherlock nodded and walked out of the room. The sound of his shoes going up the stairs could be heard.

Elle looked at the phone to check the time. She had been asleep for about 40 minutes. She looked around and saw that the boxes around the door had been pushed away. Actually, all of the boxes were at least slightly shifted. She stood up and peered inside them, noticing that the things had been shifted as well. She glanced at her scheduler still sitting on her desk, which had a bigger gap between the pages than before, as if someone had been holding the scheduler open for some time. Elle turned her head to look out the door and at the staircase. What just happened?


	2. Chapter 2: Going Through Introductions

This is my first story so please be patient! The beginning is introductory and sets the story, but the later chapters will be story-driven and a lot cuter. A slow love story that will deal a lot with their unadmitted feelings in the beginning, but will move on to a different part of their relationship. T for now, but could be M later depending on feedback. Thank you!

* * *

Elle pushed her hair out of her face and went back to work, trying to push back the weird feeling that some man was in here looking through her things. You don't know that, Elle told herself. But Elle did not miss details, and it was hard to shake off the thought as she unpacked.

"You were gone for a while," John noted as Sherlock slid back into his chair upstairs. John curiously eyed his flatmate as the man in question put on his nonchalant face and reached for his violin.

"Mm, was I?" "

Had a nice long chat, did we?" John couldn't help but let the corners of his mouth twitch a little.

"No, not really. It's quite hard to do so when one person is sleeping," Sherlock casually said.

It took a bit for John to catch the implication of Sherlock's statement, but when he did, he put down his newspaper. This was going to be an interesting conversation. "

She was sleeping? Then what were you doing in there for … 20 minutes?!" John exclaimed as he checked his watch.

Sherlock still didn't look up from his violin, and went about plucking the strings as if John's shock was unfounded.

"Oh you know, just ..." Sherlock mumbled the last bit, suddenly very interested in the thickness of his violin strings.

"What was that?" John pressed, frowning at his impossible friend.

Sherlock mumbled again. John's worry grew, wondering what on earth Sherlock was doing in a stranger's room while the said stranger was asleep. "

My god, we have to _live_ with this girl! Don't go ahead and muck it up already! What were you doing in her room!" John glared.

"I just looked at some of her stuff, that's all!" Sherlock exclaimed, indignant at John's over exaggerated suspicion.

But Sherlock still didn't meet John's eyes, because he knew what would come next.

"You what?!" John looked around and lowered his voice, furiously whisper-yelling at Sherlock. "You snooped around in her room? Sherlock, you can't do that to normal people! This isn't one of your crime scenes! What if she finds out?"

Sherlock threw John a look and said, "I doubt it. It's not like I left a big mess. And I just told her I came to say hi." "

She woke up? Sherlock, what if she had woken up to you snooping? You have to be careful. God, just don't do this stuff anymore."

John sank back into his chair and picked up his newspaper with a slow shake of his head. Sherlock made a slight face at him.

A couple minutes later, Mrs. Hudson came upstairs, knocking while stepping into the living room.

"You boys don't have anything going on tonight, right?"

"Nope," John answered and looked up at Mrs. Hudson. "Do you? You've got a bit more makeup on! What's going on tonight?" he smiled at her.

Mrs. Hudson shushed him with a wave and said, "Thought I'd cook us all a nice meal so that we all can eat together since a newcomer is here." "Like a family dinner," she laughed.

Sherlock groaned.

"Oh shush, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson frowned. "I know she's living downstairs with me, and you boys are upstairs, but we're all together in this building. We're all living together, be nice."

"What time?" John asked, ignoring Sherlock's eye-roll.

"In about an hour. Ooh this is exciting!"

Mrs. Hudson left with a little bounce in her steps. She went downstairs and knocked on Elle's open door, peering in.

"Elle, dear, don't worry about dinner tonight cause I'll be cooking for everyone, a sort of dinner party, to welcome you."

"Oh thank you," Elle straightened up from unpacking the boxes. "That's really nice of you."

"You're welcome, dear. Dinner will be ready in about an hour," Mrs. Hudson smiled and left.

Elle watched her landlady turn around and walk away, noticing her makeup and floral dress. She glanced at the full length mirror she propped up against the wall. Her long black hair was tied up in a messy pony tail and she was wearing a thin light-pink sweatshirt and black leggings. She slightly cringed at the sight of her bright blue socks with electric green lizards printed on them. She stepped closer to notice that a lot of her eyeliner had been smudged off. Well, she thought, better hurry up unpacking my clothes.

About 30 minutes later, a lot of Elle's clothes made it out of her boxes and suitcases. She was just going to have to choose from the ones that were out already. A dinner with the landlady and two men who live upstairs? In England? What was the dress code for this? Slightly overwhelmed and wishing for a guidebook on English norms, Elle first let her hair down and smoothed it down, erasing the mark the hair elastic left. Ok, one thing done. Rummaging through what was hung in her closet, Elle decided to not overdo it. She chose a boxy striped tshirt dress from JCrew – easy, cute, yet still looking like actual clothes and not something she would sleep in. She slid it over her head and looked in the mirror to straighten it out. She then reapplied her black eyeliner and lip balm and put a bit of blush on, still feeling too lazy to put on foundation or eyeshadow. She went back to organizing her things, waiting for Mrs. Hudson to call her.

When Mrs. Hudson popped in to say dinner was ready, Elle quickly put on her tan oxfords and walked into the kitchen. She stood around the table a bit awkwardly while Mrs. Hudson yelled up the stairs for John and Sherlock, then helped with setting the table when she came back.

At the sound of the two approaching, Elle looked up and mentally patted herself on the back for her dress choice for the night. Both Sherlock and John were wearing clean button-downs that were tucked in, but casually enough that John was also wearing jeans. Elle smiled at them a bit bigger than she intended to, affected by her internal satisfaction for correctly guessing the dress code for dinner. John smiled back warmly while Sherlock eyed her curiously. John and Elle exchanged friendly small talk about her progress at moving in while Sherlock watched. Seemed like they were warming up to each other quickly.

They all sat down for dinner, complimenting Mrs. Hudson for the meal she prepared, and all started eating.

"So Elle," Mrs. Hudson started. "How long do you think you'll be in London?"

"Well, my study abroad is for a year, so until right before next fall."

"Well, but probably longer if you're able to get an internship or a job afterwards and stay another year like you hope to," Sherlock stated.

Silence fell as everyone looked at him.

Mrs. Hudson touched Elle's arm and shook her head. "Oh don't mind him, he always does this to people."

"Sherlock," John warned.

"You plan to stay longer, maybe get a job at a law firm or a government sector, which will help you gain experience for your law school application and future career prospects. A bit ambitious, you fear, and I have to agree with you there. It can't be that easy for an American to land the perfect job for just 6 months, a year max." Sherlock continued, quite gleefully.

"Well, Sherlock, how did you know this time?" Mrs. Hudson asked, almost by obligation.

As Sherlock opened his mouth to describe his deductions from her choice in housing and university, Elle cut him off.

"He looked through my things," Elle answered.

"What? No, dear, he's always like this, noticing things about people. He does it for a living!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed.

Elle shrugged, "Maybe, but with me, he looked at my stuff."

Elle turned to Sherlock.

"Didn't you?"

Sherlock looked at Elle, surprised at her (accurate) accusation. He searched her face, her slightly raised eyebrows and widened eyes that looked up at him. No sign of anger, and the annoyance wavered away quickly from her expressions. Just, a bit of amusement left.

Judging it was safe, Sherlock relaxed and admitted, "Yes. Sorry if you were disturbed, it's just a habit for me – it's my job – and I didn't mean to overstep any boundaries."

Sherlock amended the situation, unwilling to create an uncomfortable living situation.

Elle slightly smiled, "It's fine, as long as you don't do it again."

Sherlock's mouth tugged at the sides as he replied, "Of course."

He added, "Was I that obvious?"

Elle laughed quietly and said, "A little. The boxes were slightly shifted and the things inside weren't so nicely stacked as when I packed them. And John was giving you weird looks."

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, as it was clear that Elle decided not to think too much into Sherlock's behavior. Everyone has their slightly creepy habits, Elle thought. Everyone introduced themselves properly and filled everyone in ("So what _is_ your job, Sherlock?"), getting closer to the "family" dinner that Mrs. Hudson wanted.

John cracked Elle up with stories from their crime-solving adventures and light jabs at Sherlock's annoying habits to lighten Elle's perception of Sherlock, especially after the snooping incident. Not that John had to worry much. Elle just thought of Sherlock as an interesting building mate, maybe one to keep on eye on, just in case something like this were to happen again.

While rolling his eyes a bit at John's stories, Sherlock kept glancing at Elle, noticing how relaxed her laughter sounded. She didn't seem to hold a grudge against Sherlock, nor think of him in any negative way, even with John's stories depicting him as a ridiculous person. Elle just genuinely laughed, finding Sherlock amusing. Sherlock also mentally noted how Elle was able to know that he had been snooping.

After thanking Mrs. Hudson for the lovely dinner, people filed out of the kitchen, back into their own spaces. Elle organized her room more, eventually giving up about an hour later. Deciding to surrender to her tiredness, she dug out her bed things to make her bed for a night of proper sleep. After fitting her sheets, she changed into her pajamas, opting for cozy grey crewneck sweatshirt and navy blue boxers with little moons on them. She got ready for bed in her new bathroom which she still wasn't used to, and then crawled into bed. Elle wrote about her day in her journal, until drifting to sleep to the sound of someone's violin.


	3. Chapter 3: Starts

It had been about a week since Elle moved in. Everything was out of the boxes, her toiletries neatly lined up on the bathroom counter, and her pastel mugs stacked in the kitchen cupboard. Elle and Mrs. Hudson became close easily, as two good-natured people do when sharing living quarters. Elle and John were also good friends, thanks to a late-night conversation that happened a couple days into Elle's move to the building.

It had been around 1 in the morning, when John finally gave up his futile endeavor to fall asleep, that he slowly padded into the kitchen. He put the kettle on with a yawn and picked out a mug. After his tea was made, he quietly made his way towards his chair when he suddenly heard a rattling downstairs. Curious, he peered over the stair railing and saw a faint light. Quieter sounds could be heard. John pulled on his sweater, as downstairs always tended to be chillier, and slowly walked down the stairs, his hot tea in hand. He followed the light into the kitchen, finding Elle standing by the kitchen counter and pouring hot water into a mug. At the sound of his shuffling, she turned around.

Upon seeing John squinting into the light, she laughed quietly. "Hey,"

"Hey," John replied. He raised his mug and smiled.

"What are you doing up?" Elle asked, as she finished making her tea.

"Just couldn't fall asleep. You?" John asked, receiving a nod from Elle. John looked around. Two people in their pajamas who had thought they'd be drinking tea alone to ease them to sleep. Elle blinked at him, unsure of what to do next. "Well," John smiled, "it looks like we got ourselves a little tea party."

And that's how it started. Both of them talking into the night, sitting at the table and clutching their warm mugs. The conversation began quite politely, each of them asking questions about the other based on what they learned during that first dinner. But the warm beverage and the late hour made them a little more honest, a little more direct, turning the conversation into a more intimate one.

("I donno, I guess I'm rather scared that maybe I should've picked a more stable path, like a dentist, or like a doctor," Elle gestured towards John, "instead of something with a foggier future, like policy-making." "Hey," John teased, "I picked doctor and look at what I'm doing, running around solving crimes with my flatmate." After a few soft laughs, John continued with a more serious tone. "You're doing what you love, and it'll work out, maybe in ways that will surprise you. And if what you love changes, then you can change with it.")

They chatted about various things: their families, friends, goals, regrets, and just their thoughts. They had to shush each other many times throughout the night in case the other's laughter was too loud. They gasped at the clock when they saw that it was 3:30 in the morning, and hurriedly wished each other goodnight, suddenly aware of how tired they were. The next day, as John was being pushed out of the flat by Sherlock who had another case to examine, John caught Elle's eyes as she was walking into the bathroom. They both chuckled at how tired the other looked.

So that was John and Elle by the end of the first week. Good friends, having tea together downstairs frequently, and John showing Elle around London a little bit whenever he had time. As for Elle and Sherlock, things were still slow. They were cordial, exchanging pleasantries (or in Sherlock's case, just words) whenever they saw each other. But they didn't really run into each other too often since Sherlock was more of a recluse. Elle just left him alone, which Sherlock actually appreciated, and in his positive opinion of her, he'd often explain to Elle how he came to his conclusions whenever she asked about it, which was whenever he deduced anything about her. Her curiosity at his deductions were a bit similar to John's in that she was genuinely amazed at his skills, and not too bothered by them. But that could because he didn't deduce anything too private yet, he mentally noted. The wonder in Elle's eyes and her satisfaction in finding out how he was able to deduce information satisfied Sherlock in turn, always craving appreciation. Her curiosity in his methods also made him feel sort of smug, like a teacher might.

And it was during those times that Sherlock one day found himself without John when he was trying to solve a case. John was away for the day (On a date? Working at the hospital? Sherlock couldn't remember) and Sherlock was spread out upstairs with his pictures and maps and other information that he could use. Breaking his concentration, Mrs. Hudson quietly creeped in, waving at Sherlock.

"I'm going out for a couple hours to a friends, Sherlock. So it'll just be you and Elle."

Sherlock didn't reply, still looking at his board of information.

"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson continued, "I don't really like the idea of Elle being here by herself –"

Sherlock turned around with a frown, "What'd you mean? I'm here."

"Well yes, but you know. John and I aren't going to be here." Mrs. Hudson ignored the scoff Sherlock gave her. "What I mean is, she's new in the city and it'd be nice if you could pay her some extra attention today since John and I won't be here. Just, you know, check in on her, talk to her, and don't be shut up in here."

"You want me to babysit her?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "I think you're forgetting she's a 20 year old woman."

"You heard me," Mrs. Hudson stated for the last time as she waved and went downstairs.

Sherlock snorted and went back to work. As he was getting frustrated with the case, his cell phone rang.

"Lestrade," he answered. "Anything new?"

"Yeah, another murder. Looks like the same guy did it."

"Text me the address and I'll be there soon," Sherlock said, feeling the corners of his mouth tug upward.

"Jo-," Sherlock almost called out in habit whilst grabbing his coat and scarf. Hmm, he thought, looking around the empty flat. He wistfully glanced at the skull sitting by the fireplace. No, can't take that. He checked his phone when it binged, alerting him of the text Lestrade sent. Sherlock sighed. A far murder scene and no one to talk to on the way?

With a small frown, Sherlock went down the stairs. As he walked towards the door, he noticed the door to Elle's room slightly ajar. Sherlock stopped to consider the situation before him. He shrugged and stepped forward and knocked on her doorframe, opening the door further. Elle turned around from sitting at her desk. Looking slightly surprised, Elle greeted him.

"Hey,"

"Would you care to accompany me to a crime scene?" Sherlock asked.

Elle blinked a couple times. "I'm sorry, what?"

"A crime scene. Got another case to look at and John isn't here to go with me. I prefer having someone there to talk to. Helps me think."

"Um," Elle hesitated. Was she even allowed to go to these things?

Sherlock quickly added, "Mrs. Hudson also asked if I could … keep you company for a bit." Sherlock couldn't help but shake his head a little with an _Yeah-it's-ridiculous_ expression.

Elle laughed. "Um, yeah sure. Let me just grab a couple of things."

As Elle stood up, Sherlock nodded and exited the room. Elle was wearing a white tunic and jeans, and already had her makeup done from an errand she was running earlier in the day. She grabbed a small black cross-body bag, guessing that a phone and a wallet was enough things to bring to a crime scene. She slipped on some espadrilles, not knowing what kind of standing or sitting situation to expect, and put on her black coat and blue scarf. Not wanting Sherlock to wait too long, she left her hair up in a top bun and just grabbed her lip tint to apply in the car. As she stepped out the door, Sherlock finished putting on his scarf that he had previously just held in his hand. They both stood and looked at each other for a second.

"We match," Elle giggled, noting the dark coat and blue scarf combination.

"Smart clothing choices," Sherlock stated, a bit impressed. "I was beginning to worry that you were going to walk out in heels too painful to walk or run in later."

"Run in?" Elle questioned, as they both walked out the door to the sidewalk.

"Is there a lot of running when you solve crime, Sherlock?" Elle asked again, quite worried about the answer.

Sherlock smirked as he opened the cab door for her.

"Sometimes."

* * *

Sorry it's short, but I just really liked how it ended. Next chapter will be longer, promise! Hoping to update everyday for a while, so please be on the lookout for new chapters. As you might have noticed with the beginning of this chapter, I don't really like doing continuous stories. I'm more of a vignette person - that's how I come up with these, just one little event at a time - so there was a little bit of a time jump there. While some stories will extend into other chapters (like this one), each story will be a different vignette, not a continuous everyday account of their lives.

Hopefully that makes sense. If not, just know that I hope to bring you interesting stories!

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: In New Light

"So where are we going exactly?" Elle asked after a few silent moments in the cab.

"A crime scene," Sherlock slightly teased, raising an eyebrow at her.

"No, I mean," Elle raised an eyebrow back, "tell me the whole story. What kind of crime scene: What happened, and why do they need you, specifically."

Sherlock was a bit stunned for a moment at her detailed interest. She would be a nice substitute for John. After collecting himself, he answered, "A mysterious man had broken into a woman's house and killed her. It seemed like a burglary at first, missing items and signs of a struggle that could have been from when the woman found the burglar and surprised him, leading to her eventual murder. But then the police found a small drawing on the woman's body."

"A drawing? Like a tattoo?"

"No, it was sharpie. A sharpie drawing of a stick figurine in an unusual pose. That's when I was called in. I was able to find out that the murderer had drawn on the body after he killed the woman, slowly and deliberately. Not an ordinary doodle, especially considering that he did it on a corpse. No, it means something, whether it's a sign of a gang or an organization he's in, or his signature – meaning he could be a serial killer, or some other sort of message – if it's a message, then for whom? And the missing items from the house were found in a garbage bin in the neighborhood park, meaning that the woman did not die as an unplanned result of a burglary, but as a specific target. The murderer took random things from the room he killed the woman in to make it look like burglary. So, the questions left to answer are who is this man, what is his connection to the woman, and what does the drawing mean? I admit, I was hitting a sort of dead end, when Lestrade called and informed me that another murder has occurred, once again looking like a burglary, and once again with a drawing on the body."

"And what's the connection between the two people who have died? Any clues that help narrow the suspects?" Elle was leaning in closer to Sherlock, engrossed in the story.

"None to be found yet," Sherlock replied while eyeing Elle. She was quick, asking the right question to fill in the blanks. Having Elle around would not be as annoying as the babysitting he had originally anticipated, if she was going to be able to keep up and even look a step ahead.

They arrived at the scene a little while later, the cab dropping them off in front of an apartment complex. The two walked into the building then got in the elevator to go up to the 3rd floor. Elle eyed Sherlock nervously and broke the silence.

"Sherlock? What am I supposed to do here? I don't know the first thing about police work – I don't even watch any crime-solving TV shows!"

Sherlock glanced down at Elle and saw a bit of panic in her eyes. He found it amusing that she was so worried. He wasn't expecting anything from her, and in fact, she had already proved to be more than he thought she'd be in the cab ride here.

"You don't need to help me solve anything like John does. He tends to be slow and get in my way sometimes, so you hardly have a high bar set for you." Sherlock looked at Elle and gave her a wink.

Elle smiled weakly, appreciating that he was trying to comfort her.

"Just stand by me so I can talk to you," he said, looking up when the elevator dinged.

When the elevator doors opened, Sherlock stepped out and walked towards the room the police motioned towards, ending up in a large, brightly-lit apartment. Upon seeing him, Lestrade finished talking to an officer and walked towards him with a grim face.

"It's not looking so good, Sherlock," Lestrade told him as the men shook hands. As he opened his mouth to continue, he stopped, noticing Elle, and asked, "Who's this? No John today?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, this is Elle Rhae, a new inhabitant in our building. Elle Rhae, Detective Inspector Lestrade." Sherlock let them shake hands and exchange hello's. "No John today, but I suspect Miss Rhae here would do nicely."

Flustered, Lestrade looked at Sherlock. "Sherlock, John had special clearance. You can't just bring … whoever you'd like to a crime scene." Lestrade finished, glancing at Elle.

Elle looked down, quite embarrassed. Oh my god, do I have to go back? She thought. Or sit in a corner somewhere?

But Sherlock looked at his friend coolly. "She's with me."

"You can't just –"

"She's with me." Sherlock looked hard at Lestrade.

Lestrade finally sighed. "Fine, just go get your gloves from Anderson. And don't make this a habit!" He walked further into the apartment, grumbling.

Elle quickly followed Sherlock towards the near table to get gloves. There, a tall man frowned at Sherlock.

"Ugh, it's you,"

"Of course it's me. Who else would save the day when you lot are sitting around helplessly?" Sherlock mocked.

"Us?" Anderson's eyes followed Sherlock's to the girl standing to the left of him. "No more John then? Found a prettier one to look at?

"Shut up Anderson," Sherlock spat. "She's more than a face and a body. Or is your idiotic and misogynistic brain incapable of understanding that?"

Anderson's face turned red and as he stammered, Sherlock cut him off. "Just give us the gloves."

Sherlock snatched them away from Anderson's hand and walked away to find Lestrade, handing a pair to Elle. They went into the living room, where Lestrade was waiting for them.

Upon noticing their clothing for the first time, Lestrade laughed. "What, you guys a couple?"

Sherlock and Elle looked at each other in their black coat and blue scarf outfits.

Ignoring Lestrade's remark, Sherlock asked, "What happened?"

"Paul Kochle, 28 years old, killed in what seems to be a burglary. Missing items, just like before, all from the living room where Kochle was killed. He also has a drawing on his arm." Lestrade led them towards the couches.

A few steps ahead of Elle, Sherlock saw the body first then stopped. Right before Elle reached him and saw the body herself, Sherlock quickly turned around and covered Elle's eyes with his hand.

Elle stopped, startled by Sherlock's actions. "What, what is it?"

"It's a bit gory. You've never seen a dead body before, and I'm not sure if this is the one you should start with, considering you can't handle gruesome injuries." Sherlock glanced at the dead man again, who displayed various big and deep wounds through the torn shirt and had a horrific facial expression.

"How'd you kn – oh never mind." Elle was aware of his deduction skills by now. Her hands gingerly reached up and touched Sherlock's that was covering her eyes. "Is it really bad?"

"Since you don't even like the movies, how do you expect to find the real wounds?"

Elle grimaced. She avoided movies with gore like the plague. It wasn't the blood, she could handle blood. It was the open wounds, the detailed imagery of how exactly the person was cut, bludgeoned, or stabbed, that were so disturbing to her. And Sherlock was right, if she couldn't even handle them on TV shows or movies, which she knew they weren't actual wounds, how was she to look at real ones on a real dead body?

"You're right," Elle sighed. She didn't want to see it. Remembering she would have stumbled upon the sight if it wasn't for Sherlock's thoughtfulness, she added, "Thanks." Did he just go out of his way to look out for her? Maybe it was so her shock at seeing the body wouldn't disturb his work. But he did remember her dislike and prevented her from possible scarring. Elle decided to think of it as a deed. "Should I just wait somewhere else then?" Elle asked.

Sherlock looked around the room. "Close your eyes and stand still for a moment." Sherlock walked a few steps back, hunching down in various places, finding a place that Elle could be where the body wouldn't be visible to her. Finding a spot, Sherlock grabbed a chair from the dining area and planted it there. He led Elle by the wrists and had her sit.

"Here, you can open your eyes. The body is hidden by that couch but you're still near for me to talk to."

Elle slowly opened her eyes. In front of her, a blue couch was obscuring most of the floor, only allowing her to see the upper half of Lestrade, who was standing where she presumed the body was. She looked up at Sherlock, who was coolly looking at her. Elle smiled though, noting his caring character. Despite his reserved appearance, he was actually really nice. "Thanks," Elle murmured.

Sherlock nodded and walked back to Lestrade. Elle could only see the top of Sherlock's head since he was crouching down to examine the body that was on the floor. Lestrade watched Sherlock carefully turn the victim's head, lift up the arm, and take pictures of the drawing. Sherlock looked around the room.

"What items were taken?" Sherlock kept his eyes on the empty space between the two candle holders on top of the fireplace.

"Don't know yet," Lestrade answered. "Barely any pictures of the living room, so nothing to match it with. His phone is gone, along with his wallet, and so are the speakers that were by the TV, but the small items are uncertain. He probably grabbed random things that he saw, just to make it look like a robbery."

Sherlock was still staring at the fireplace. "This one though, it was something important, something different. It's farther away than the other items he probably just took on his way out, so he saw a special reason to take this away too."

Sherlock now got up and crossed the room to the fireplace. He swiped the empty space with a finger then measured the space between with his hands. "Recently cleaned up here, so no dust marks to help us. An item this big –" he motioned with his hands, "and special enough that the murderer walked across the room, further away from the door, to take, while the other things were either obvious enough to make it look like a burglary or close enough to him at the moment to just grab."

Elle watched Sherlock come alive in the crime scene, moving swiftly and talking quickly for Lestrade to catch up. He saw it all, not just the scene before him, but the scene he would have seen if he were here when the murderer was. Elle had heard plenty from John how skilled Sherlock was and even experienced it a bit first-hand when Sherlock would catch Elle around the flat, but this was different. This was the scene of murder, in which the murderer tried to cover his tracks. And Sherlock was excelling, even in a room filled with people who were trained. Elle couldn't help but be amazed by this man. How brilliant was he?

Lestrade, on the other hand, was not showing his best side to Elle. He shrugged, "Something expensive? Like an expensive vase or some other decorative piece? Maybe it was supposed to be another obvious item to take in a staged burglary. "

Sherlock stared at the space intensely. "No, there is something about this space in the room … Look at how it's arranged. It's not just a space to freely put anything there …" He suddenly whipped his head back to look at Elle. "What would you say was here?"

"Me?" Elle was taken aback. _What was he doing? I'm not a detective! _

"Yes, I've seen your room, your IKEA catalogues. If you were decorating this place, what would you have put in this empty space?"

Elle stood up and came a bit closer, careful not to look down at the body. The top of the fireplace was perfectly symmetrical, with two large candleholders on each sides of the empty space, each next to a small gold bookend, followed with some books. Simple enough that Elle assumed the missing item wouldn't be a lavish decoration, but something that tied the rest of the items together. She looked around the room, seeing what other kinds of things the man put up for display. Not much, just minimal things to have the place look decorative enough, without actually going to the trouble of spending a lot of time doing so.

Elle's eyes went back to the empty space. She furrowed her eyebrows and opened her mouth.

"A picture frame."

Lestrade glanced at Sherlock, unsure of how credible this girl was. "A picture frame?"

Elle looked at Lestrade and Sherlock, both of whom were now staring at her. "Yes, a picture frame. The dead man is not very decorative person, but still cares enough about appearances to have things here and there. So, no random vase or bird figurine on top of the fireplace, probably." Elle gestured around the room. "Judging by how symmetrical the top is, the missing item was a sort of centerpiece, and the easiest centerpiece, especially for the top of the fireplace, is a picture frame. And there aren't any around the room, so either the murderer took all of them with him, or the man dead before us designated the empty space for it." Elle tentatively finished, unsure of the reaction. She was fairly certain of her conclusions, but she looked at Sherlock for help.

Sherlock was silent, eyes slightly wide. "Well Detective Inspector," Sherlock finally started, "You might want to get her special clearance."

Sherlock smirked at Elle, which she decided to understand as a good-job-Elle smile, and walked around the room.

"A missing picture changes things slightly. Highly possible that the murderer is in that picture with the victim himself. Or maybe even with the previous or next possible victim," Sherlock told Lestrade. "Anything that would have helped us get to the murderer faster."

Lestrade motioned at one of his men. "Thorough background research to friends and family, any organizations or clubs he was in. Find the connection between him and the previous victim. Go through the photo-albums, any pictures online or saved into the computer. The same for the previous victim too!"

Sherlock went back to the body and waved Lestrade over to peer closer at the drawing left on the arm.

"See here? Same stick figure, with its arms and legs spread out, but one of its feet is turned a different way. And this one has the eyes drawn in. Hardly think it's because the killer had more time to be detailed this time." Sherlock raised his eyebrow at Lestrade. "So, not a signature. A message."

"A message for whom?" Lestrade was getting frustrated now.

While Sherlock and Lestrade was talking, Elle let her eyes wander a little to the people gathered in the room. She noticed a man with files in his hand and went over to him.

"Excuse me, do you have the picture of the drawings on you? Just curious what they look like. And I don't really want to go over there and bother them." Elle gave her best I'm-friendly-listen-to-me face, which thankfully worked.

"Yeah, this one is the drawing on the other guy who died before this one." The man handed her a picture. Elle looked at it. A rudimentary stick figure doing a weird dance move, it appeared. The man handed her another one. "And this is the one from today."

Elle studied the second one. Just like Sherlock mentioned, this one was the exact same, except for the eyes and one foot. This one seemed a bit off though. Elle frowned, unable to put a finger on it. She compared the two pictures side by side.

"Sherlock," she called over, "do the two drawings look like different colors to you?"

"What?" Both Sherlock and Lestrade walked over to see the pictures Elle held in her hands.

"Look," she pointed. "The first drawing is very pigmented, and very black. The second one, however is lighter. I thought that it was just less pigmentation – I donno, the sharpie's starting to run out or something – but if you look at it carefully, it's actually a different color. It's actually a very weird color, sort of like a navy blue, but also brown and grey at the same time." Elle looked up at the two men, who had now taken the pictures from her hands to look at them closer. "Do you think that could matter, maybe?"

Sherlock walked back to the body and studied the drawing closer with a magnifying lens. He murmured, "You're right, Elle, it is a different color."

He handed the lens to Lestrade so he could look. "Find out this color, and which stores carry it, which could help us close in on the murderer. It is a very peculiar color, one that not a lot of places sell, so it should limit our search." He took the lens back from Lestrade and took his gloves off.

"Call me," he nodded to Lestrade, then motioned to Elle that they were leaving.

Sherlock took Elle's gloves and dropped them into the waste bin along with his. They passed everyone in silence as they exited the apartment. As soon as they climbed into a cab, Elle let out a breath that she didn't know she had been holding. It's been a long day. Sherlock grinned at Elle.

"So, think you can handle the next one as well?"

* * *

Sorry this took so long! Family stuff came up, and I got sidetracked. Hopefully, I'll be able to post regularly again. Thanks for reading! (:


	5. Chapter 5: The New Number, Three

"The next one?" Elle looked incredulous.

Sherlock smirked. "Not today, I mean. Next time, maybe when John isn't with me, or you and John together."

Elle was silent, not knowing what to say. Sherlock glanced at her.

"Wasn't it thrilling, the case? Like a game, a race to see who will win in the end."

Elle noticed the tone Sherlock was speaking in. She stared at him a bit, more curious about this man and his personality. _A game? _That was one way to put it. He was definitely not someone driven by a thirst for justice. Unless he believed knowledge, and therefore truth, was justice.

"Is this like a brain exercise for you, solving these cases? Trying to beat the criminal, uncovering their tracks?"

Elle wasn't accusing Sherlock of anything, but just stating an observation in question form. Sherlock in turn, studied Elle's face, intrigued by her reaction. Quite different from everyone else, but then again, everyone reacted in their own ways.

Sherlock ignored the question, aware Elle knew the answer.

"And you?" He turned it around. "The marker color? You sought those pictures out. You have your own moral code, stronger than mine I might admit, on how to view crime and criminals. Yet at the crime scene, you weren't too emotional, like moral people often have a tendency of being, but looked at the situation as a case. Observed, concluded, sought out more information to help further the case."

Elle held Sherlock's gaze for a minute, then dropped it with a slight smile. "Would you say I have the best of both worlds?"

Elle glanced up to see the amusement in Sherlock's face and continued, "You got me, I did approach it more like a puzzle than a horrible crime that happened and must be lamented at. Not trying to blame you, but that is the role you wanted so I could've subconsciously made the decision to be more that way today. But yeah, it's … exciting." She thought over her word choice. "It's solving a problem, connecting the dots. I can see why you do this, other than the overwhelming reason that you're gifted."

Sherlock was taken aback at her sudden compliment. He paused only so slightly that she couldn't tell, then tentatively spoke, not looking at Elle.

"You think I'm gifted?"

Elle laughed, "Think? Isn't it obvious you're gifted? No one can be taught to do what you do at your level – I mean, it's why Scotland Yard needs you, right? That extra talent you have that can't be covered with just training."

It wasn't visible, but Sherlock was blushing.

"But seriously," she joked, "you should teach me what you can. I'd love to just know everything."

Sherlock blinked, unsure how to react. He wasn't really used to people appreciating what he did. He turned his head to look at Elle finally, who was grinning at him. He turned his head back with a small grin as well.

When the cab pulled up to Baker Street, John was standing at the door, getting his key out.

"John!" Elle greeted as she got out of the car.

John turned around and frowned at the sight of his two friends getting out of the cab together.

"What were you two up to?"

"Sherlock was babysitting me per Ms. Hudson's request," Elle laughed at Sherlock. "Took me to a crime scene."

"Ah the only way Sherlock knows how to entertain people," John chuckled.

"She enjoyed it," Sherlock retorted, nose a little bit in the air. "Was better than you've been at times. I think I found myself a new partner."

John shrugged, "Less time with you is fine with me." He smiled at Elle, "Thanks for going with him; he might've come all the way to my work to bother me to go. In fact, have you guys eaten yet? No? Then let's go get a bite somewhere, my treat! To thank Elle for getting Sherlock off my hands."

The three of them went to a little restaurant nearby for dinner. Thrilled that Sherlock hadn't offended or otherwise given Elle a bad idea of himself, John ordered wine to go with the food. Sherlock filled John in on the case and upon hearing Elle's contributions to the case, John gave the compliments Sherlock hadn't, making Elle smile. Conversation and jokes were flowing, and even Sherlock was relaxed and pleasant, making this a good night. Thanks to the dinner with their mutual friend John, Elle and Sherlock were able to become less cordial and formal, and more friendly and comfortable. And John was pleased at the start of their friendship, wanting the three to hang out more. Sherlock and Elle continued the progress of their relationship back at Baker Street, being more casual and direct around the flat. Sherlock would annoy Elle with small deductions about her day and Elle would chastise Sherlock about his people skills whenever she witnessed them. Elle was more comfortable spending time upstairs in 221B, although most of that time was spent with John, who was more talkative and who she was closer to. Sherlock also just went in and out of Elle's room.

Since Elle started school soon after she went with Sherlock to the crime scene, the case with the mysterious drawings was solved without her. By the time it was though, Sherlock and Elle were close enough that Elle joked to Sherlock how much of the credit should go to her. About a month and a half later, Sherlock started thinking about that day with Elle again. She was quick and intelligent, grasping what needed to be learned to further the case. Her active interest had found the color difference in the markers' inks and led him in the right direction. Her own knowledge and thinking style had also helped in identifying the important missing item as a picture frame.

As the case he had been working on with John was proving to be long and tedious, Sherlock shot up from the couch he was lying down to think in.

"John! John!" Sherlock yelled to the flat as he grabbed his coat.

John came running from his room. "What?" He asked, noting Sherlock's attire.

Sherlock handed him his jacket. "Let's go Scotland Yard and look at the evidence again. There may be something we missed. And we're picking up Elle along the way."

"Elle? Where is she?"

"In class. By the time we arrive, it should be about the last 30 minutes of the discussion."

"Wait, what?" John grabbed Sherlock in the middle of the staircase.

"I memorize her schedule," Sherlock motioned for John to keep up. "Let's go!"

"Sherlock, you can't just pull her out of class!"

"Oh it's not a very important one, and it's to solve a crime! Really John, that should be reason enough."

While Sherlock and John argued the whole cab ride to the university, Elle, as Sherlock knew, was in her political science discussion class, completely unaware of what was about to happen. She talked, listened, and wrote notes, when at a certain time, she began to feel the attention of the people around her shift to something else. People were looking elsewhere and murmuring a little bit. Elle looked up and towards the area some of these students were glancing at. Elle's eyes widened.

Sherlock was looking at Elle through the small glass frame in the classroom door, motioning at her to come out. _Was he crazy?_ Elle quickly checked to see if the professor noticed. Dumbfounded at Sherlock's suggestion, Elle slightly shook his head for Sherlock to see. Sherlock frowned at her and waved her over even harder. Elle made a stern face at him and shook no again. This went on two more times until Sherlock was visibly annoyed. Making Elle's eyes widen even more, Sherlock knocked on the door and walked in, turning all heads towards him. Elle stared at him in horror.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I'm afraid Miss Elle Rhae needs to be excused right now. Urgent matters, and her assistance is needed."

Elle narrowed her eyes at Sherlock's fake apologetic smile to the professor. He could act very well when he wanted to.

Sherlock discreetly showed the professor the badge he swiped from Lestrade to get Elle out faster. The professor cleared his throat. "Make sure you get the notes from someone else afterwards," he said, signaling her excuse.

Elle quickly packed up her things into her bag and walked out, embarrassed at all the staring. As she exited the classroom, she saw John standing off to the side of the door, looking at Elle apologetically.

When the door closed, Elle furiously whispered to Sherlock. "What are you doing? You can't just pull me out of class! John!" She also shot a look of blame towards him. "Why didn't you stop him?"

"Sorry," John sighed. "You know how Sherlock is, just won't listen to anyone else. I fought him the whole way here!"

Sherlock started walking away, making Elle and John follow him.

"There's a case to be solved, and I want you to come along," Sherlock explained as he walked down the hallway.

"That's it? I was in class! You have John, you didn't need to come get me." Elle was irritated.

"Yes, but we were stuck for a while. Figured I needed a new set of eyes on the case."

Elle lightly shoved Sherlock. "Stop being so selfish! Don't you realize what an annoying situation you created for me? I have to apologize to the professor and give an explanation to the class why a man from Scotland Yard pulled me out of class. Ugh, don't do this again!"

Elle protested the entire way out of the university, explaining to Sherlock why he shouldn't have pulled her out of class. This of course, fell on deaf ears, since Sherlock didn't really care about the situation he put Elle in. All he understood, was that she was annoyed with him. Elle gave up in the cab, experiencing once again, the limit of Sherlock's people skills. With an exasperated sigh, she just stopped and listened to Sherlock fill her in on the case. John quietly tried to comfort Elle, painfully aware of how frustrating Sherlock could be. The cab headed to Scotland Yard with an oblivious Sherlock, a displeased Elle, and an uncomfortable John caught in the middle.


	6. Chapter 6: Breaking A Wall

Forgot to mention, but the story is set before the Fall, after Scandal. Just think of it as a long period of time between Scandal and Fall, since before I get to the Fall, I'm planning about a year and a half of Elle and Sherlock.

* * *

From that day on, Elle regularly joined Sherlock and John to solve cases. But Elle made it very clear that Sherlock was not to get her when she had a commitment, like class. ("Sherlock, I came to London to _study_, not run around solving crime with you!" Elle exasperated when Sherlock grumbled about her rule.) So while John was with Sherlock most of the time, Elle was there about half of the time. Because of her recurring presence at crime scenes (Lestrade got her a pass like Sherlock suggested), she became friends with Lestrade soon. It was quick, thanks to her amicable personality and Lestrade's approachability, and also thanks to the fact that John and Sherlock were friends with Lestrade. When it was only Sherlock and John, Lestrade would rub his neck in disappointment and ask, "No Elle?"

One day, around the end of November, Elle was packing up her things after her last class for the day when her friend nudged her.

"Someone's here for you." The friend pointed towards the door.

Sherlock and John were standing by the open door as students were filing out, looking at Elle. When Elle caught their eyes, John smiled, and Sherlock grinned big. Elle narrowed her eyes at Sherlock's exaggerated behavior.

"What now?" Elle slightly moaned when she met them. She looked up at Sherlock as she gave John a side hug. "This is dangerously close to breaking my rule about school."

Sherlock feigned a hurt look. "We waited for your class to be done for 10 minutes. That's what you say to people who waited out here for you like puppies?"

Elle rolled her eyes, "Fine, sorry. But what if I had something afterwards?"

"Then we would've had to ignore your rule."

Elle shoved Sherlock and continued walking out with John.

When their cab reached the crime scene, Elle had been briefed and was ready.

"Haven't done Scotland Yard stuff in a while, this is exciting." Elle smiled. The last couple cases she had helped was for Sherlock's clients.

The three of them quickly walked into the building to escape from the crisp wind, Elle almost skipping to keep up with Sherlock's long strides. She was about a head shorter than him, after all. Not today though, since she was wearing heels, but the shoes also slowed her down a bit. Elle's heels clicked on the tile floors as she arrived in an art studio, where they were examining smuggled art.

Lestrade turned around at the noise, which arrived a few moments before Elle did, and smiled big at her.

"Elle! Came today to straighten these two out, huh?" Lestrade quickly strode over to meet the three.

"I haven't seen you in a while! We should all pop over to a pub after this." Elle hugged her friend.

"A pub? Looking at you, a wine bar might be better." Lestrade whistled, gesturing at Elle.

Elle had her long black hair down in big waves and was wearing a sheer cream colored button-down with a gold collar necklace, tucked into a navy blue circle skirt. Because of the cold weather, she had her long navy blue coat on, along with her black tights and high-heeled booties. Her black over-sized bag was holding all of her school stuff.

Elle smiled and waved away the compliment, explaining, "I had a thing today," even though she liked to dress nicely most of the time.

Sherlock frowned at their exchange and also at John who greeted Lestrade warmly, clasping his shoulder.

"Why is everyone so close to George? Did I miss something? Joined a club without me?"

"Yeah, they all remember that my name is _Greg_," Lestrade scowled.

The case went smoothly and left everyone in good spirits. As Lestrade had suggested, the four of them went to a bar for drinks. Lestrade took them to a place he knew, which was fancy and had live piano music in the background. Elle, John, and Lestrade mostly chatted, while Sherlock sat quietly, nursing his drink. Although Sherlock was not up to socialize at first, Elle was able to coax him by asking him to find out things about people around them. This was Sherlock's forte, and he enjoyed showing off and telling them about who was nervous trying to impress their date, who was having an affair, and who was planning on having a one night stand. It was as close to gossiping Sherlock was going to get, but it helped them laugh and get the drinks flowing.

When Elle left the table to use the restroom, as Lestrade had implied hours ago, men stared at her. On her walk back, a guy approached her and flashed a smile. He had been eyeing Elle for a while, and saw his chance when she left the group. He was in a black suit and wore a tie, and ran his hand through his gelled hair, aware of how good-looking he was.

"Are you with any of the blokes you're sitting with?"

As Elle opened her mouth, Sherlock appeared behind her. He stared hard at the stranger, frightening him with his glare.

"Shoo," Sherlock said in a low voice, making him sound threatening. Elle looked back at Sherlock, amused by Sherlock's actions.

"Mama's boy, living off his father's success, spends his days boating with different women each time." Sherlock explained without being told by Elle.

Elle teased, "I like boating."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at Elle. She giggled, a couple drinks in her already, and pat Sherlock on the head.

"Good Sherlock," she cooed.

When they got back to the table, Elle told John and Lestrade what happened, even though they had been watching, and pat Sherlock's head again. She smiled at Sherlock as John and Lestrade laughed at Sherlock's rather horrified expression.

Being a lightweight, Elle was feeling the effects of the alcohol more strongly than John and Lestrade were, although they drank similar amounts. Sherlock was still working on his second one. It being Friday night, them having solved a case, and the fact she was spending time with her new friends in London made Elle happy enough to not care how much she was drinking. When Sherlock, John, and Lestrade starting talking about Scotland Yard and possible cases, Elle was mostly listening to them, and ended up drinking more in her silence.

By the end of the night, Elle had had 6 drinks (she wanted to have fun, but not get wasted) and was very tipsy. She kept smiling and had to link arms with John to walk out of the bar more normally. When their cabs arrived, Elle hugged Lestrade goodbye and kissed his cheeks. She climbed into her cab first, not wanting to stand much longer. John, Lestrade, and Sherlock all looked at Elle, amused by her state.

"Oh I forgot to mention," Lestrade turned back to John and Sherlock, "there's an end-of-the-year banquet coming up, supposed to be pretty fancy, and you guys are both invited."

"Not really a banquet sort of man, Lestrade." Sherlock stated.

"Oh come on, it's a special event! Someone from the top is feeling like a celebration and paying for all of it. Since we don't pay you, you might as well come and get free food. I had to jump some hoops to get you guys in, you know."

John glanced at Sherlock. "Could be fun," he shrugged.

Right when Sherlock was about to list the 16 reasons why it could not be fun, Lestrade cut him off and exclaimed, "Ah! You're coming then, both of you. I'll give you guys the formal invitations next time."

Sherlock didn't look too pleased, but both John and Lestrade ignored him.

"Could only get you two invited," Lestrade continued, "but it's you guys plus guests, so one of you can bring Elle."

"Oh, good idea!" John yelled a bit loudly. He also had had 6 drinks.

"Alright then," Lestrade waved them goodbye and climbed into his own cab, driving off.

Sherlock and John also went to their cab to join Elle and left the area. When they got to their building, Elle and John got off the cab singing a song about an old man dancing a jig. Sherlock worked the keys quickly, embarrassed by them.

They stood around by the door to say goodnight to Elle, who lived on the first floor.

"Goodnight," Elle hugged John tightly and kissed his cheeks, something she apparently did when happily tipsy.

John kissed her cheek and laughed, "Drink some water before you sleep tonight."

As Sherlock was turning away to go up the stairs, Elle exclaimed, "Where are you going, Sherlock Holmes!"

Sherlock looked back to see Elle stretch out her arms.

"No, I don't _hug_," Sherlock grimaced.

"Too bad." Elle was holding Sherlock tight and her voice was muffled by his shirt.

Sherlock froze uncomfortably and looked at John for help. He just laughed.

Elle released Sherlock, then surprised him by also kissing his cheeks.

Elle laughed at Sherlock's pouty face and pat his head again. She waved goodnight and walked into her room, leaving the two men to stare after her. John glanced at Sherlock and also pat his head, receiving a scowl from Sherlock.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'm going on a trip without my laptop for about 3 weeks, so I wanted to post one more chapter before I left! I have the next chapter all thought out, so hopefully I'll be able to write it out really quickly when I come back. Just 3 weeks, and I'll be back with more Elle! (:


	7. Chapter 7: It Was Quite Warm

**Friday afternoon**

"You coming, Elle?" John glanced back while zipping up his coat against the harsh weather.

Frowning against the wind, Elle swept away the hair lashing about her face and sneaked a peek at her watch. She tapped her toes unconsciously inside her warm cozy Uggs, mulling over her decision.

"Actually," Elle started, moving the straps of her purse to her shoulder. "I think I'm gonna head back. I should really study." Elle checked John and Sherlock's face, the latter whom had been impatiently trying to catch a cab and now whipped his head back at Elle's announcement.

"Study?" Sherlock's face scrunched up at the sound of Elle's ludicrous priorities. "We just found out that it was the next door lady! The one with cats and biscuits for everyone! Do you not realize how exciting this is?"

"Yeah, Sherlock, but I have to study! My exams are coming up."

"Oh don't be ridiculous, it's not like 3 extra hours are going to make a significant improvement in your abilities. Exam scores all usually come down to –"

"Sherlock!" John shut up his friend with his sudden shout.

While Sherlock was trying to find out what he did that was wrong from John who looked straight ahead with an annoyed expression, Elle checked the time again.

"Look you guys, I'm just gonna go. See you guys later,"

"Elle!" Sherlock called out without success as he watched her flag down a cab and get in. Sherlock looked to John with confusion plastered on his face, which John ignored as he tried to get a cab for them too.

**Friday night**

At the sound of the knock, Elle turned around from her desk, careful not to make her movement cause the huge textbook fall from her lap. She hated having to crane her neck down to read from her lap, but there was already another textbook taking up the space beside her open laptop.

"Hey," John peeped in, just getting back from running around with Sherlock. Sherlock's footsteps could be heard going up the stairs.

"Hey, Elle smiled, motioning for John to come in.

"How come your room smells like apples and Christmas while my living room upstairs smells like weird chemicals and sometimes dismembered fingers?"

"Ah, I believe that comes with having Sherlock Holmes as your flat mate. You should've read the fine print." Elle tutted while John sniffed the lit candle by her window.

"How was the old lady with all the cats?" Elle asked while John sat down on her bed.

"A lot feistier than she looks, but we got her all right." John chuckled and filled Elle in. During their conversation, Elle couldn't help but yawn, it being late and having had a long day. "You look tired," John said after the yawn, noting her sleepy look.

"Is that because I'm not wearing any makeup right now?" Elle jokingly glared at John.

"No! You look good without any, it's just that –"

"I know what you meant." Elle laughed and rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, I'm really tired now. Think I'm just going to finish up this little bit then sleep."

"Want me to make you a cuppa?"

Elle exaggerated her expressions to show just how sweet she thought he was being. "Yes, please." Elle handed John her now-empty blue mug with reindeer and snowmen on it.

"Festive," John raised an eyebrow at her.

**Monday afternoon**

Elle grumbled to herself while taking off her warm fuzzy mittens to check her phone, which had dinged a second ago to notify a text. This was quite hard to do, considering one of her hands was already occupied with a hot drink for this cold day.

_Client supposed to come around 4. Be upstairs _

The rather demanding text was of course from Sherlock. Elle considered the schedule she had created for herself for studying and other school work and quickly texted back.

_Don't think I can start a case right now, but hope it's a good one!_

Elle put her phone back in her coat pocket and wrestled her hand into her mitten once again. Her smile was wiped off by another ding, stopping her walk to her flat. She now just took off her mitten with her teeth and shoved her hand into her pocket to grab her phone.

_Come anyways. 4_

Elle rolled her eyes.

_No, just count me out for this one. I'm busy_

"Oh my god!" Elle quietly yelled at her phone as it alerted her of another text right when she got her mitten back on. She was almost at the flat and decided to ignore what was probably Sherlock whining.

About 5 minutes later Elle reached her destination and quickened her pace to the front door. She stood in front of it to fish her key out of her bag and reached for the doorknob when the door suddenly swung open. Elle jumped back.

"You scared me," Elle told Sherlock, who was standing only a couple inches in front of her.

"Why didn't you answer my text?" Sherlock asked as Elle went inside.

"I didn't see it." Elle lied and glanced back at Sherlock, who was following her into her room. "Did you see me coming and open the door to confront me?"

Sherlock ignored her, aware that both of them now knew the answer to that.

"Well, I had texted 'You can't be that busy' and to come upstairs."

Elle already took off her thick white scarf and was now taking off her coat. "Sherlock, I can't," Elle sighed, reaching for a coat hanger. "Just have fun with John."

When Sherlock snorted, Elle turned around. "What? You do think it's fun, trying to solve weird and sometimes really horrible things." Elle grabbed her scarf from her bed and rolled it up to put it away. "I wonder if I should worry about it more than I do now, but…" She trailed off with a slight shrug. She smirked at Sherlock's expression.

"Don't try to change the subject."

"It's because you're not listening to me, you stubborn man-child!"

When Sherlock opened his mouth to start arguing, Elle quickly pushed Sherlock out. "Sherlock, no, not today, and that's final."

"Really Elle, this is –"

"I want to change into something comfortable so, out you go!" Elle gave one final push to a resisting Sherlock. Once he was out, Elle grinned and quickly waved goodbye and closed the door.

**Tuesday morning. Very, very early morning. **

Elle squeezed her eyes shut again and tried to sleep. She pulled up the duvet over her head and tried to pretend she was at the most peaceful she's ever been. _You can't hear it, Elle_, she tried convincing herself. As she breathed deeply, a rather high note was struck and Elle's eyes flung open. _You have got to be kidding me. _Elle ripped the duvet off of herself and bolted up. She shoved her feet into her slippers and trudged out of her room and up the steps in the dark, following the faint light she could make out from upstairs. Her steps were quite audible on the creaky stairs, especially since the building was quiet save for that wretched noise, but it had the nerve to continue as if nothing was wrong. She stepped into 221B and glared at source of the noise, sitting on his chair with a smug look and still ignoring her.

"Are you kidding me!" Elle yelled through her teeth at Sherlock.

Sherlock finally stopped playing his violin and looked towards the door for the first time. Elle was standing there fuming with her black hair messily pushed out of her face, which she had done with her fingers in frustration as she climbed up the steps. Her long hair still fell on to her thin baggy sweatshirt, which she was wearing with a dark green plaid pajama pants. Her slippers that had cows on the front were just the perfect touch. It was way too funny and Sherlock had to focus all of his strength in keeping a straight face.

"Hello, Elle. By the looks of things, I would say you've been having trouble sleeping tonight."

Elle's eyes widened at his nonchalance. "You don't say! Deduce why not!"

John, who had also been victim to Sherlock's sudden musical performance, was sitting on the couch rubbing his temples. He had come out of his bed like Elle a couple minutes ago, trying to make Sherlock stop, which of course was futile.

"Maybe it's stress from studying too much." Sherlock answered with a feigned thoughtful look.

"Or maybe it's –" Elle stopped midsentence, realizing what Sherlock had just said. "Wait, what?"

Sherlock's cool composure slipped and he started to worry now, watching Elle's anger grow. He didn't mean for her to know that bit.

"Are you playing your violin at three in the morning because I didn't sit in with you for a client today?!" Elle's voice was quite low and not yelling fully since there was a slight chance Mrs. Hudson was still asleep, making her more scary.

Sherlock didn't respond, not sure what to do.

"Oh my god, Sherlock!" John sank deeper into the couch with his hands over his face. "Seriously? Everyone here is suffering because someone didn't play with you today?!"

Sherlock remained silent, not looking at either of them directly. This wasn't quite what was supposed to happen.

"I can't believe this. You are the most selfish -" Elle ran her hand through her hair and took a breath. "I'm just not going to do this with you. I had only gotten into my bed thirty minutes ago and am very tired. So instead of talking to a _wall_, I'm going back to sleep." Elle spoke slowly, trying to calm down. "If I hear you again, I'm going to throw that thing out the window. And by that thing, I'm not sure whether I mean the violin, or you."

Elle made a slight strangling motion with her hands, gave John a look, then turned around to go back downstairs.

Sherlock was surprising himself with his lack of snarky responses. He was quiet, just listening to Elle's footsteps, and later, the sound of her bedroom door closing.

John also stood up to go back to bed.

"You are such a dick."

**Tuesday morning**

Although she had slept late, Elle was able to get a decent amount of sleep since she only had an afternoon class today. As she sat up from bed, she remembered the events from a couple of hours ago and shook her head, wondering whether that man was even real.

She padded to the bathroom in her slippers, protecting her feet from the cold floors. She washed her face and put lotion on, waking herself up, and walked out to fix herself some breakfast. As stepped out of the bathroom, she was stopped by Sherlock, who was standing near the door. He was still in his pajamas also, with his burgundy dressing gown draped over them. Elle and Sherlock were both silent for a moment, awkward from their previous encounter.

Elle was really mad at him, but it was the morning and a lot of it had subsided. It was an argument, an incident, and she was going to move on. Sherlock's silence also meant he knew what he did was wrong, right? Elle sighed and decided to break the ice first for him.

"Morning," she greeted with a hint of a smile.

"Morning," Sherlock stared at Elle, holding his mug close to himself.

After another moment of silence, Elle started to turn towards the kitchen until Sherlock spoke again.

"Elle," Sherlock blurted, then regained his composure once Elle turned back and faced him.

Sherlock hesitated, then gently handed Elle his plain black mug, also transferring the warmth of the drink to her hands. His gold initials gleamed in the light as Elle tipped the mug slightly to see that it was filled with English breakfast tea with added milk and sugar. She looked up at Sherlock, wanting to say thanks, but he started first.

"I'm sorry."

Elle was a bit stunned, first because of the tea, then the apology, and therefore remained silent.

Sherlock continued, "That was very rude of me, and it won't happen again. I hope my behavior last night won't discontinue your attendance of and help on my future cases."

Elle let out a small smile. "Of course not."

At her response, Sherlock gave a tight-lipped smile and his eyes fell a bit. Elle touched Sherlock's arm, letting his eyes meet hers again and softly said, "I appreciate it, Sherlock."

She left him standing and went into the kitchen to make breakfast. Elle stopped by the table and took a sip of the tea as she heard Sherlock walk away. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she let the tea warm her up.

* * *

Sorry this is really late! I got caught up in things after my trip and couldn't really write. I also didn't want to go straight into the banquet that Lestrade mentioned in the last chapter so I needed a new story in between. I hoped you guys liked this chapter! It was fun for me to write and I can't wait to update the story more regularly from now on! Be on the look out for more :)

And if you guys were confused while reading, remember that the story is set in winter for now. December to be exact. If you're enjoying a hot summer like I am, enjoy the cold wind in your head. If it's already cold where you are, then, no problem for you!

Thanks for all the love!


	8. Chapter 8: Be My Guest

"Sherlock, are you listening to me?"

John had walked upstairs with his friend to their flat, doing what he thought was engaging Sherlock in a conversation. That is, until he realized Sherlock's eyes weren't responding to anything coming out of his mouth. He paused, annoyance plastered on his face, and got in his too-familiar stance by the kitchen table with one knee bent and one arm on the back of a chair. Sherlock's eyes were staring in space off to the side, still unaware of the change in his environment. John stared unbelievingly at Sherlock, still surprised at his friend's behavior after all this time.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock blinked, taking his eyes off of his black mug that was sitting on the kitchen shelf. "Yes, and we're also out of eggs, I believe," Sherlock replied casually, picking up the conversation that John had bored him with. His eyes wandered back to the mug that had been absent for a couple of days from its usual spot on his desk. Or on the fireplace. Or by his chair. Sherlock shrugged internally, admitting to himself that he was not one to really care for putting things back. But obviously Elle was. His gold initials that were printed on the mug were shiny from the recent wash and the mug was even put upside down to prevent dust from falling in it. How quaint, he thought. His mug was snugly nestled in between John's mugs and the few cups and plates they had. The corners of Sherlock's mouth tugged upward, knowing that Elle hesitantly placed the mug somewhere that seemed like its original place and where Sherlock could easily see.

While Sherlock's thoughts traveled to the girl downstairs, John rolled his eyes at Sherlock's pretense of paying attention. "Sherlock, I stopped talking about that ages ago. What I was talking about now, which you weren't listening to – thanks for that – was that I think I might be taking Emily to the banquet that Lestrade invited us to. Not sure yet, I want to see her a bit more first before asking, but it's a possibility."

"John, you know I lost track of your dating endeavors." Sherlock shook his head at John. "And the banquet? Are we seriously attending that?" Sherlock groaned, dreading the idea of being in a room filled with inadequate officers and detectives patting themselves on the back for another failure of a year. He could just gag, thinking of the smug faces and the miserable small talk. Sherlock avoided John's gaze as another thought made its way into his head. "Besides," he said casually, "I doubt anyone actually wants me there."

"Lestrade invited us!"

"Yes, of course Lestrade did, him with all of his _sentiments_," Sherlock made a slight face at the last word. Lestrade really did think he was doing them a favor by inviting them to a party. Such a simple man. Sherlock continued, "But honestly, no one at Scotland Yard likes what we do, and us being at the party reminds them of their incompetency and just how much of their cases are actually solved by us."

John tried to hide his smile, hearing the words that gave him an idea for a new angle he could go for to convince Sherlock. "Exactly," he exclaimed, "you don't get paid, nor are you really appreciated, so you might as well go eat some free food, and rub it in their faces the whole night that you are," he slightly hesitated, "essential to them."

He exaggerated his expression, trying to show indignation at how little Sherlock's consulting was being appreciated by people. John knew he won as Sherlock paused, thinking of John's proposal.

"I know you just want to invite Emma if things go well," Sherlock muttered, hoping to erase John's self-satisfied look at his victory. But the suggestion of being the walking reminder of how much he had to save Scotland Yard from utter failure was too tempting to resist.

"We both know you just want to bother everyone with your presence all night," John replied, rolling his eyes. "And it's Emily," he quickly added, although he could see Sherlock discarding that information from his head.

As Sherlock walked away with the newspaper, John quickly followed him, making sure to get to the point before he forgot. "Sherlock, the reason I brought up how Emily might be my date, is so that you'd know you can take Elle," John added, "if you want."

Sherlock turned around to face John with a slight frown. "Elle? I'm going to be pissing off everyone at the banquet; no need to bring another person to bother with my company."

That statement wasn't completely wrong, John noted. No clue what kind of mental stress attending a party with Sherlock could cause. John reevaluated his suggestion for a split second, substantially worried whether he would be sending a friend into a pit of misery known as Sherlock's social interaction. But Sherlock liked Elle: that much was evident from his affinity to bringing her around for his work. If Sherlock thought she was a satisfactory company, he wouldn't be too bad to her, right? And Elle thought Sherlock was fun to be around, whatever that meant. John raised an eyebrow at Elle's own description. It was good enough, he decided, to encourage Sherlock to bring Elle.

"Oh come on, Sherlock. You know you would have a pretty decent time with Elle. And she's one of the few people who not only tolerate you, but actually like you."

Sherlock's eyes flashed a bit at John's statement. It was rather difficult for him to gage people's feelings toward him, so what John said came as quite a surprise. Especially considering how frustrated Elle got about his demand for her to accompany him and John often. Sherlock tucked away that information in his head. It was convenient (pleasant, he _almost_ thought) that Elle liked him, he concluded, because he rather enjoyed her company as well. She was intelligent and quick, able to keep up better than John at times, and accepting of his ways. She had come to know him fairly well in the couple months they had lived together in the same building. Sometimes, when Elle would quietly leave him alone to his thoughts at the right moments or stare at him a second longer when he was distressed, Sherlock wondered if Elle understood him more than she cared to announce.

Taking Sherlock's silence as a good sign, John continued, "Look, the invitation says you can bring a date, and Elle's been helping out quite a bit, so this could be a way of thanking her."

Sherlock cleared his throat, clearing his thoughts as well. "Do you really have to call it a date?" Sherlock frowned. "You're making it sound like all those starry-eyed dinners you took those poor women out to," he smirked.

"Well," John shot back, ignoring Sherlock's last comment, "it is a dinner. A proper dinner you dress up for, probably with music and dancing too. So yes, Sherlock, it's a date."

"I believe it says 'guest' on the invitation," Sherlock retorted, then started to leave the flat.

"Where you going?"

"Well I have to ask Elle to come to the banquet, don't I?" Sherlock stated as he climbed down the steps.

John quickly followed Sherlock downstairs, refusing to miss seeing Sherlock ask a girl out on a date.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the sound of John hurrying behind him, and continued his way to Elle's room. Finding himself in front of a closed door, he knocked. When there was no reply, Sherlock just opened the door, despite the noises of protest coming from beside him. Just a step inside the room, Sherlock and John saw Elle curled away from them in her bed, only the waves of her hair poking out above the thick duvet. She lay quiet, undisturbed by their entrance. John quickly pulled Sherlock out of the room by his arm and softly closed the door.

John motioned for Sherlock to be quiet and gently nudged him up the stairs. "Be careful not to wake her up," John almost whispered. "She must be exhausted, staying up late the past week or so. She's finally resting after her last exam today."

"How'd you know it was her last exam today?" Sherlock asked a bit too loudly, making John to shush him.

"She told me," John replied. After they were back in their living room, John closed all the doors to the staircase to reduce any noise that might travel downstairs. He looked at Sherlock and shrugged, "Guess you'll have to ask her later."

* * *

Two hours later, right when Sherlock was becoming very bored after he had done his work for the day, John came in through the door with bags filled with groceries.

"If you're just going to regret it, don't buy the biscuits next time, John." Sherlock eyed the bag and looked up at his friend from where he was sitting.

John held up the tin and shook his head. "I told myself I'd start being a little more careful of what I eat, but it just all goes away when you see something delicious." John placed the tin on the table where he could easily see it and eat later, and started unpacking the rest of the groceries. "Oh Sherlock," John called as he closed the refrigerator door behind him. "Elle's awake now, if you haven't asked her yet."

Sherlock considered his choice of activity, then stood up and buttoned his jacket. John walked down with him, slightly pleased that Sherlock hadn't done this while he was gone. When they knocked and entered Elle's room, she was on her bed again, sitting all cozied up underneath a blanket. Her room was silent save for the gentle rain that was heard through the closed window and the pages of her magazine flipping slowly. Elle looked up at the knock and smiled warmly, affected by the happiness from finishing her exams and how refreshed she was after the long nap.

"Hello," she singsonged.

"Elle, what are you doing on the 20th?" Sherlock spoke swiftly, almost as if he were making an appointment with her. That is sort of how he perceived this banquet, an event he was to attend, hopefully with another person he found amusing by his side.

"The 20th?" Elle repeated, a little surprised. Sherlock never asked about her schedule, he just bulldozed his way into seeing if he could get her to come to his cases last minute. She reached for her scheduler on her bedside table and gave it a quick look. "Nothing, why?"

John tried to contain a grin and peered at Sherlock's face, giddy at the situation his friend was in.

"There's a banquet on the 20th for Scotland Yard, doubt it's for all of the departments, and Lestrade has invited John and me. I was wondering if you would like to come with me that night." Sherlock informed her in a cool manner.

"As his date," piped in John, receiving a barely-there glare from Sherlock.

"As my guest," Sherlock corrected.

John looked at Elle and muttered, "Date."

Elle's gaze shifted between John and Sherlock, startled by the unexpected invitation. "Well," she started, "which is it?"

Sherlock answered first, cutting off the sound that was beginning to escape from John's mouth. "Guest. The invitation says 'guest'." He stressed the last word.

Elle slowly nodded, appearing deep in thought. She clasped her hands together and looked at the two men standing in front of her, a solemn decision on her face. "Well," Elle's serious tone flowed, "I will then attend the banquet as your date."

Sherlock's eyes widened and he quickly checked Elle's formal expression. When she held her front, Sherlock's whipped his head to John for any explanation as to what happened and what he should do. This was unfamiliar territory.

At this sight, Elle's façade cracked, and she let out a laugh, which John joined her in. _Oh Sherlock. Sherlock could be real fun sometimes_, Elle thought as she kept laughing at the hopelessly lost expression that still lingered on his face. She felt very comfortable with him to poke a little fun and watch him look flustered. Elle wasn't sure if anyone could know Sherlock Holmes very well, except for John, but she could read him well enough. They were friends, she hoped, and with friends, she enjoyed joking around and teasing from time to time. Gauging it right with Sherlock, she figured, could be a way to make him feel more comfortable with and close to her too.

As Sherlock caught on by their laughs, he returned to one of his stoic-yet-slightly-irritated looks. Elle grinned at him and continued, "I'm not all joking! I'm probably the only one in a while, if ever, to be asked out by Sherlock Holmes! I want the whole experience; the flowers, opening the door for me, giving me a jacket when I'm cold…" Elle lingered off, still laughing as she spoke. Holding her smile, she suddenly wondered if Sherlock ever asked someone out on a date before, or had a girlfriend. His usual behavior and how it came off to people mostly screamed no, but you could never know. She did catch onto Molly's feelings for him quickly when she met her, and felt her glances whenever the interaction between Elle and Sherlock were a bit too relaxed for Molly's liking. So if people felt attracted to him, surely he could be capable of feeling similar emotions towards someone. Asking Sherlock outright didn't really seem appropriate or considerate, so she decided against it. Maybe she could see if John knows anything next time she was with him. She collected her thoughts and smiled at Sherlock, letting the joke go without an answer. "What time, and what's the dress code?"

Sherlock answered her, glad to move on from a conversation he had no idea how to hold. "7:30, and black tie optional."

"Black tie optional? A bit fancier than I thought," Elle voiced, hiding her concern. She mentally ran through her closet seeking a dress she could wear. What if she underdressed? Or overdressed? At a party filled with people she didn't know?

"Yes, they think they've outdone themselves this year," Sherlock rolled his eyes at the simple-minded confidence of Scotland Yard. He was of course unaware of the internal unease Elle was in.

John shrugged, "Apparently some guys up top are throwing the party with their own money. Must be pretty fancy."

"Wait, John who are you going with?" Elle asked, remembering that Sherlock invited her, not John.

"Hopefully Emily," John quipped, and as he started to explain, the doorbell interrupted, turning all three heads to the sound.

As they all just stared, Sherlock and John exchanging quick looks to remember if anyone was coming for them, Mrs. Hudson's shoes could be heard clicking rapidly towards the door. "Wouldn't hurt any of you to open the door," she yelled as she walked past Elle's room and saw all of her tenants in there.

"Yes, who is it?" Mrs. Hudson's voice traveled to Elle's room, which was fairly close to the front door. The door creaked open and the smell of rain made its way in.

"Looking for Sherlock Holmes," replied a man's voice.

Sherlock and John looked at each other, then started to walk out. Elle still sat on her bed, not sure what to do. Most of the time, Sherlock just asked her to come as he was running out of the building or told her to come upstairs for a client. Her presence by Sherlock wasn't as natural as John's, and she didn't just up and leave with him every time she could.

Sherlock stopped by Elle's door and looked back, surprised to see just one person behind him.

"Aren't you coming?" Sherlock slightly frowned in confusion.

When Elle blinked, Sherlock added, "I thought you were done with your exams." He worried that her silence was a sign of displeasure at what she perceived was him selfishly demanding her time again.

But Elle heard in his tone that he had thought of her as a part of his work now. Elle contained a smile that was peeking out, appreciating that he thought it was natural for her to be with them. "Yeah, of course," she answered, and got up with the blanket wrapped around her, for the building had a chill. She hurried since John was waiting for her as Sherlock went out to introduce himself to the client. Taking a bit of time to uncover her face from the cocoon John made with her blanket when she reached him, Elle joined everyone in the hallway a tad late and went upstairs to hear from the client.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! This took me longer than expected to write, since I was trying something new. How did you guys like the little bits of different points of view thrown in there? Sorry if it's a little chunky right now; I'm working on it! I hope to bring you subtle POV soon enough :) **

**What did you guys think about Sherlock asking Elle to be his 'guest'? He may be able to speak quite coolly in front of her now, but keep reading and that will change! **

**Also, let me know what you guys think of the lengths of the chapters. I like them a bit short; when I read stories, I like to go through the chapters pretty quickly. But that's my opinion and I would love you know what your guys's thoughts are! **

**Thanks for the love!**


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